


Sam's Watched Porn Before

by femmenerd



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, POV Second Person, Pre-Series, Stanford Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-05
Updated: 2006-11-05
Packaged: 2018-01-15 09:44:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1300405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/femmenerd/pseuds/femmenerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shameless, young, awkward, Sammy het!porn. Stanford era.</p><p>Originally posted on LJ <a href="http://femmenerd.livejournal.com/135603.html">[here].</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Sam's Watched Porn Before

**Author's Note:**

> Dude. Second person. Italicized dialogue with more than one speaker per paragraph. Why did they put me on the beta panel at Wincon?

Everyone else is asleep. Sarah and Tim are wrapped around each other in that symbiotic, coupley way and Miles and Andy are separately passed out and drooling. Beer cans. Sleeping bags. Friends. This is college. This is what you were waiting for.

And Sam. He’s _right there_ next to you. And you’ve been waiting for that too, but no one knows that, you hope. Especially not him. Because he’s always so sweet and friendly and earnest and a little bit elsewhere–like he’s got a different script from everyone else around. And you want him to think that _you’re_ serious too, with thoughts.

This is college. And there is porn. Flickering on the screen still. Andy’s idea, of course. Andy who laughed when you said you’d never seen a porno before. _It’s cool,_ Sarah said, _they’re totally funny._ And Sam–he leaned over all the way and confided in your ear, _Don’t worry about it–I’ve only seen them because my brother’s a total perv_. And once again you wonder where he came from. A million feet tall and beautiful with no history. 

Funny. They are funny, these naked strangers on the screen, saying stupid things and wearing stupider outfits before they strip them off for the most implausible of reasons and start interlocking parts and moaning. It’s the moaning that messes you up the most. Even if it is stupid. Those sounds...

Make it so that you can’t look at Sam and he’s _right next to you_ the whole time. And you didn’t even have to try too hard to get it that way. No maneuvering and scheming and praying for it not to be obvious, the way that you’re always so physically aware of where he is at every second. You were cold, shivering, and he got you a blanket. So chivalrous. Draped it over both of you. 

The porn stars fucked...a lot. And they sucked. And your friends laughed and drank beer after beer. You were quiet. So was Sam. But when his hand touched yours you almost yelped. Just an “accidental” touch, but you didn’t move away and neither did he and when your pinky ventured out a little bit further his met yours and you thought. You thought your insides were going to melt, all from a boy touching your hand. A boy with floppy hair and blazing white smiles and perfect, neat notebooks full of diligent, organized class notes. You know, because you sit next to him in Art History. 

But his fingers. His fingers are on your fingers and they have been for like _hours_. So gentle, hardly there, but you can feel it _everywhere_ as he strokes the underbelly of your palm, touching every crease. And now you can’t believe that you were ever cold, because if there were lights on you are sure that he would see that your entire face is blotchy red, overheating. 

Even with the still-groaning naked people on the TV, you can hear his breath catch. And that is just...almost too much. But then he looks at you and you look back and start to open your mouth to say something, but he lifts his finger to his mouth and goes, _Shhhhh,_ eyes scanning around the room. At once you feel the loss of his hand in yours but then it’s on your belly, tentative, a centimeter from the place where your jeans meet your hips. 

_Is this...is this okay?_ He whispers, and you want to say a million times yes but you just nod. Feeling stupid and your skin is _itchy_ all over. So you meet his hand once again and then somehow your buttons come undone. He does it or you do. You don’t know. But when his finger touches your clit, you are just already _going_ , sagging back against the couch and opening your mouth–

He clasps his other hand over your face in the nick of time. Reflexes, wow. And then he is staring down at you, jaw hanging out slightly and _staring_ , eyes a little wild. Replacing his index finger with his thumb. Long, strong fingers inside you and you are helpless, looking up at him and blinking, nibbling on the skin of his palm as you flood. Pleasure through your body and wet all over his hand. He’s watching you come and you haven’t even kissed yet. 

You’re embarrassed. But Sam, he looks shy now too. Holds his hand out in air that is once again cold, soaked and dripping. He wrinkles his brow like he doesn’t know what to do with it. So you link sticky fingers with him and say, _Can I? I want to.._.

Your fingers trip on his zipper, sorting through boxer shorts and prickly boy hair to find his cock, which is just...you didn’t expect that. He’s big so you should have, but you think _he_ could be a porn star. And you must have said that out loud because he’s trying not to laugh and looking down, watching your hand on him as you skitter over the head and grip his shaft awkwardly. 

_Sam, I don’t...and you, you were so..._

He covers your hand in his again and guides you. Breathing _huh huh huh_ and that is a hotter sound than all the elaborate grunts of the men in the movie. He comes in impulsive spurts, warm to the touch, and maybe that should be gross, but you feel powerful, triumphant and beautiful in that moment. 

Sam tears off his T-shirt and uses it to clean you, to clean him. So polite, but you just want to touch him, stroke his chest where it is warm and soft and brown. Lay your cheek there and not look up because this is strange and all backwards. 

But he lifts your head up and moves in slowly, licks his lips and says, _I’m sorry. I should have done this first._ He kisses you, with soft tongue and easy lips and you say, _Did this really just happen?_

 _I hope so,_ Sam whispers back between your lips, rattling your teeth, and you hope that when you wake up in the morning, he will kiss you again, with or without porn.


End file.
